


Parting Is Such Sweet Sorrow

by Interimnity (athirstygoil)



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Gen, a movie ending rewrite, mortal injuries, this is what fanfiction is for after all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 09:17:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20171857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athirstygoil/pseuds/Interimnity
Summary: Just when Erik Killmonger thought everything was over, T'Challa proved him wrong.





	Parting Is Such Sweet Sorrow

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rewrite of the ending of Marvel's 2018 movie Black Panther. Because the way Erik's story was progressing, it wouldn't have made sense for him to just let himself die. I mean, c'mon. There's potential for him to do so much good, even maybe start a redemption arc. He had good ideas, just executed them wrong.
> 
> Really, he and T'Challa were better off working together, for a better Wakanda.

When the dagger stabbed in through the space of his armor into his sternum, Erik knew he was done for.

“Pretty sick move,” he coughed, grasping at the hilt. T’Challa, his cousin by blood, the very man Erik thought he ousted, stared down at him. With all his training, Erik never feared death. He lived by the sword, after all. It was all he ever had.

“My Dad,” he laughed, bitterness in his voice, “Always told me Wakandan sunsets were the most beautiful he’d ever seen--” a cough along with the tightness in his chest-- “Promised he’d take me to see them. Would you believe it?”

He’d like to believe the look on his dear old cousin’s face meant T’Challa would like to. 

\--

They both stood silent as elevator took them up, Erik feeling a sense of mutual camaraderie as T’Challa supported him.

Everything he worked for, all those subjects who died...did it even matter now that he was just going to die? Would T’Challa end up like his uncle?

“Shuri is just up ahead,” he heard T’Challa say. “She can heal you.”

“I’d rather die a martyr,” Erik coughed, weakly pushing T’Challa away. His grip on Erik tightened instead as T’Challa dragged him forward.

“A martyr can do more alive than dead.”

“That’s the fucking point, asshole--”

“You talk as if you did not make a difference,” T’Challa spoke over him, “as if everything you’ve done was not worth it. You got what you came for. Why will you throw it away? Why will you allow a meaningless death when we can change Wakanda for the better?”

“Why should I work with you?” Erik spat, chest heaving, “you gonna take what you want and drop me like a hot potato?”

“They were wrong to leave you,” T’Challa stated with conviction. Turning so Erik could see his face, T’Challa repeated, “My _father_ was wrong.” And if Erik read him correctly, his cousin meant it wholeheartedly. And...Erik was shocked. 

“To abandon one of our own is not the Wakandan way.” T’Challa’s eyes were steady as he near-spat the statement. “I cannot speak for my father, but his decision is not my own. He was right in his own way, hiding us to protect our technology, to protect our future. But look what he has done to achieve it. What is a child, forbidden from entering his only other home compared to his entire country? He destroyed you the moment he took your father. He disgraced our family name by deserting you.” Erik could have sworn the bleariness in his eyes was from his body trying to keep awake, but it could have also been tears. “Wakanda could have been greater then, but it would not be what it is now. Not if we work alongside each other.”

Before he knew it, Erik caught a glimpse of a fast-propelling shape of a ship as Shuri’s face appeared not too long after. Stunned, Erik wheezed in protest. T’Challa held on, and leaped them closer.

“With this new rule, we can change Wakanda for the better,” he continued. “We can finally help the world instead of hoarding our resources for ourselves.”

They were swinging and T’Challa neatly brought them aboard the ship.

“Will you aid me?” Erik could have sworn he heard T’Challa’s voice break. Erik felt metal against his back as a bright light shined above his head. Shuri’s hands nimbly held one of her highly advanced tools as the other checked his vitals on a screen near the table. 

His vision tunneled, and Erik turned his head so he can at least look respectful before a king.

“Yeah...” he replied, eyes rolling back as the anesthesia kicked in. “I’ll do it.”

It wasn’t the original plan, but at least it meant fixing more than he could alone.


End file.
